Once Upon A Dream
by ThatbloodyTartarus
Summary: "Masquerade is alive." And Alice is willing to do anything to bring him back from the other side, even if it means crossing the boundaries between this world and the next, between dream and nightmare; even if she must put not only herself but also her friends in terrible danger; even if the cost is her very soul. She will find him.
1. Wherever You Are

**A/N** : This is a sort-of prequel to **His Just Deserts** , in which I tell the story of how exactly Masquerade was brought back from the nether world. This adventure is (hopefully) going to be _epic_ , _nerve-wrecking,_ _heart-breaking_ and maybe, just maybe a little bit silly.

 **Disclaimer** : I own neither rights to Bakugan Battle Brawlers nor to the song lyrics quoted below. There, that should save me from being sued.

 **Song:** " **Wherever you are** " ©Disney

* * *

 **Once Upon A Dream**

 _I used to believe in forever_

 _But forever is too good to be true_

 _I've hung a wish on every star_

 _It hasn't done much good so far_

 _I don't know what else to do_

 _Except to try to dream of you_

 _And wonder if you're dreaming too_

 _Wherever you are_

 **Chapter 1: Wherever You Are**

Alice couldn't dream.

She used to have them. Under the blanket of sleep, nonsensical mosaics of psychedelic pictures used to swim around and blur together in her subconscious mind every night. Dreams about unicorns and rainbows; about math tests she hadn't prepared for; about starry evenings and someone's hand gently cradling her face; and then there was that weird one about militant jelly beans trying to take over the world. Alice used to dream.

Now there was only the meadow. It lay just beneath the waves and currents of her conscious thoughts, brought to the surface whenever the tides drew back with the stillness of night. Not a dream, a memory of a place non-existent. And yet the vividness of it continued to engulf her in an embrace of rolling grass over her ankles and the wind tussling her hair, his last words echoing across the landscape. Every night the same events on a never-ending loop, and still she never remembered that it was only a dream. It felt so real. As real as the memory of his mask shattering in her hands, the sparkling crystal dust blown away and spread by the winds like his cremated ashes. _Goodbye forever. I'll never forget you, Masquerade._

A part of her had died in that meadow, a part she'd never really got to know, but whom she mourned nonetheless. She knew she shouldn't. He'd taken so much from her—her friends' trust in her, her trust in herself—and even in death he'd taken her dreams with him.

For three years she'd tried to move on, to come to grips with what happened and put it behind her. She no longer cried when she awoke from that memory; no longer feared the glimpse of his shadow in her reflection; no longer was she torn by a reality split between her world and his. It was over, and she was awake.

And then she'd heard his voice.

It had been neither a memory nor a dream. When she had faced Shadow Prove in battle, she'd felt her old ghost brush past her mind, pulling at her, trying to tempt her into the darkness with him. But she'd been so afraid that if she followed him down those twisted paths again, she'd never find her way back into the light. He still had the power to make her doubt herself, even if he seemed to have more faith in her strength than she did. _Don't you know? It's because I_ ** _am_** _you, Alice._

She had given in, if only for a little while. And suddenly, she hadn't been scared anymore. The thrill of battle pulsed through her body like fuel, ignited by an unwavering self-assuredness that was completely alien to her and yet oh-so familiar. It was him. His presence was a physical thing; she could _feel_ how he filled the empty spaces within her that she hadn't even realised were vacant. For a brief while, Alice had been whole. Her light and his darkness were balanced on a knife's edge, not fighting, but dancing together.

Then the battle was over, and he was gone. At first she'd blamed herself, telling herself it was her loss, her failure, her lack of strength that had killed him again. Suddenly "moving forward with her life" felt like walking away from his corpse, and every step sparked pain in old fractures that had never been properly set.

Now, the memory-dream-memory-dream-memory also haunted her waking hours. She could hear him, see him, smell him, _feel_ him, and in her mind she was drowning in questions: Had he really come back? Or was it just her imagination? Her mind playing tricks on her? A manifestation of all her darkest desires, her worst fears? Had she simply snapped under pressure? Or had he always been there, waiting for an opportunity to come out? Then, was it her decision to fight, to avenge herself, to _prove_ she was as good as her other half that had called him? These and more circulated in her mind like wild torrents in a maelstrom, crashing and flowing 'round and 'round towards its centre, that one singularity of certain fact:

"Masquerade is alive."

Across from her, the young scientist intertwined his fingers and leaned forward on the tabletop, his expression one of intense seriousness. He didn't look at her with the scepticism of her grandfather, nor with the poorly hidden concern for Alice's wellbeing (meaning her sanity) that Runo had shown, nor with Klaus' cold determination that he'd ' _never let him hurt you, Alice,'_ like he wanted to rip her dark self right out of her. _This_ man's beautiful green-blue eyes—Alice could feel her heart beating faster—were filled with nothing but sharp attentiveness.

"I thought he was gone, I had this…emptiness inside after he left," Alice said, pressing on. "But that's just it; he didn't die, he left. That means he _went_ somewhere, and that he can come back. He came back to me when I brawled Shadow Prove…then he left again, but the point is he _was_ there. He still exists. Somewhere. And I need to bring him back."

"If he is capable of returning by his own volition, and he has not, doesn't it stand to reason that he doesn't wish to come back?" the genius queried, cocking his head a little. Pale blonde locks brushed over his face with the movement, some strands getting caught in his dark eyelashes. Alice fought the urge to push them aside, feeling a little disturbed by how little it seemed to bother him to have his pretty face partially obscured.

"I'm not saying I would force him if he really doesn't want to." Alice bit her lip. "I just…I need to find him, just to talk to him." A sudden heavy sadness weighed down on her shoulders, making her slump in her seat. "Grandfather has tried to help me, and I'm really grateful, but he's just not getting anywhere. It just seems impossible. We're talking about bringing someone who might only still exist in my mind into physical reality. My grandfather is maybe the smartest physicist in the world, but this…this is beyond modern science."

Alice lifted her gaze, her eyes pleading. "That's why I wanted to talk to you. Because—"

"I am not of this world," he finished.

"Exactly! You have access to technology and science that no one on Earth has. If anyone can figure out how to find Masquerade, and how to get to him, it's you. I mean, you're brilliant. Your work on cyber-neurology would revolutionise the neurosciences on Earth. And your development of nanotechnology that can regenerate and reconstruct genetic material is amazing. You're perfect for what I need. I need you." A red-hot blush spread across her cheeks as she realised she was starting to ramble. And what was she even _saying?_ Could she sound any _more_ like a love-struck fangirl?

He raised an eyebrow, looking slightly amused. "I'm flattered you know of my work."

Alice could feel her blush marching downwards until she was sure all of her was glowing bright red with embarrassment. What was wrong with her? Was she really incapable of talking intelligently to just one incredibly pretty boy? For a moment, Alice imagined a mocking laughter ringing through her head, too rough and deep to be her own. _Focus, Alice! Pull yourself together_.

"Please," she burst out, "I can't do this on my own. You're the only one I can think of who is smart enough to figure this out. Please—" she clasped her hands together, "—help me. I'll do anything. I…don't have much money, but I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement—"

"You can cook, correct?"

Alice blinked at the interruption. "Y-yeah. I mean, I cook for my grandfather a lot, and I used to work at a restaurant…"

"Excellent." His mouth quirked up in a small, almost _edged_ grin, like he was trying to look friendly but didn't quite have the practice in to make it appear natural. It was kind of cute and disconcerting at the same time. "Then, when we've succeeded, you will cook me a meal, and we'll call it even. Agreed?"

A wave of relief came rolling over Alice, washing away the layers of teary-wet sediments—hopelessness, desperation, misery, grief—that had stuck to her skin over the past few months.

He was going to help her. And the way he spoke with such confidence—as if, to him, 'impossible' was just an unchartered land and 'limits' were threads of spider silk, easily snapped—hardened her previously brittle hopes with concrete certainty. _When we've succeeded_ , he'd said. Yes, they would.

He righted himself in his seat. "It will be no easy task. It'll require all our joint knowledge on the physics of inter-dimensions, quantum neurology and parapsychology. A real challenge," he said. Suddenly his calm and closed expression twisted, losing all its earlier friendliness, a kind of _madness_ coming alight behind his eyes as his face morphed into the mask of something darker, more predatory.

Keith Clay, brilliant scientific mind and the second most powerful brawler in the world, also known as Spectra Phantom, a former aspiring world-conqueror and currently Alice's only hope, looked at her with such pure ambitious _delight_ that she felt a cold chill run up her spine—and a heat like glowing coals settle in her lower stomach.

"Well, then," he said, his voice husky, "let's get started."

* * *

 **A/N** : My, my, I think _someone_ has a little crush. I wonder with whom.

You know, I wasn't an AlicexKeith shipper before I started writing this, but strangely enough it just seemed to _fit_. Keith is basically the perfect mix of every guy Alice is ever paired with in fandom. His resemblance to another masked villain is obvious, but he's also got the sophisticated and better-than-thou attitude of Klaus combined with the leather-pants-loving silent-but-strong air of Shun. He's like the Frankenstein's monster of Alice's perfect boyfriend!

I'm actually really pleased with how this one turned out, even if it might get a little over the top with all the metaphors. I hope you (wonderful reader who stuck with me all the way through) enjoyed it, and drop me a comment if you feel like it, any and all are appreciated.


	2. Beneath My Skin

**A/N** : A huge thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited or followed, and a special thanks to my reviewers: Eris-Of-War, Maiden Warrior, werehogdog, and JetravenEx. I'm really glad you all seem to like the last chapter, and hopefully you'll like this one too (though of course you're not obliged to). What's funny is that you all have expressed great approval of AlicexKeith, so...shit, I guess I have to write more of that now with you guys twisting my arm like that. Just kidding, I was going to write more AlicexKeith fluff anyway. It's funny because that really was a "spur of the moment"-decision on my part. Well, apparently it was a successful one, so—

 **ALL ABOARD THE CRACKSHIP!**

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Bakugan Battle Brawlers or the song.

 **Song** : " **Papercut** " by Linkin Park

* * *

 **Once Upon A Dream**

 _I don't know what stressed me first_

 _Or how the pressure was fed_

 _But I know just what it feels like_

 _To have a voice in the back of my head  
/_

 _Like a face that I hold inside_

 _A face that awakes when I close my eyes_

 _A face that watches every time I lie_

 _A face that laughs every time I fall_

 _(And watches everything)  
/_

 _So I know that when it's time to sink or swim_

 _That the face inside is hearing me_

 _Right beneath my skin_

 **Chapter 2: Beneath My Skin**

Alice was stunned at the speed with which Keith had raced through her grandfather's work. When the alien genius had agreed to help her, she'd immediately scrambled together all the months' and months' worth of research from her grandfather's lab, everything from detailed test reports to scribbled-on post-its. The results from over a year of hard work—the small triumphs when a solution seemed to open new pathways to their goal and the frustration when they inevitably found themselves walled in by another problem—Keith had read through it all and proceeded to systematically break it apart, bit by bit. He'd redone all the experiments; triple-checked all the results; updated all the research with his own knowledge of advanced Vestal science; written piles of reports; and crushed most of her grandfather's carefully put-together hypotheses. Even Dr Michael's casual comments in the margins seemed for Keith worthy of looking into with scrutiny and a microscope. In addition, there were all the research, studies and experiments Keith had done based on his own ideas.

In barely three month's time, Keith had made more progress than what had taken Alice's grandfather over a year to achieve. It was unbelievable. She was scrolling through the material on the Vestal equivalent of an IPad, one new emotion after the other popping up in her scull as she read on—confusion, embarrassment, surprise, admiration—but most prominently was the humbling feeling of pure jaw-dropping _awe_. She could not speak, could not do anything but sit and stare dumfounded at the screen. _I can't believe he's done all this in so little time, all on his own. What_ _ **is**_ _this guy?_

"Alice," a male voice said impatiently, "are you paying attention?"

She looked up at the irritated face of the young man in a white lab coat, his arms crossed and blue curls tied back revealing intelligent green eyes.

 _Well,_ she thought, _not completely on his own._

Keith's trusted assistant (and possibly closest friend) Gus Grav had naturally worked alongside his master on their latest endeavour—or "The Project" as Keith was fond of calling it—even though Alice suspected he secretly thought she was insane. Nevertheless, Keith's hypothesized claims were Gus' undisputable Truth, so he set about following his master's instructions without hesitation or complaint. Though he would occasionally throw some casually derisive comment her way whenever Keith had left the room, but they were usually so subtle she didn't even catch the insult before it was too late to come up with a rebuttal.

"I'm sorry," Alice answered, "could you repeat that?"

Gus exaggerated a sigh, just to make it absolutely clear how tiresome she was, and fixed her with a scowl. Gus was that kind of man who hated being ignored or having to repeat himself for the sake of a fool. Alice knew she wasn't an idiot—unfortunately, she had a hard time convincing him of that fact.

"I would think you'd find the topic more interesting, seeing as this is all for your benefit. Master Spectra wouldn't be wasting his valuable time chasing ghosts and the delirious fantasies of some deranged teenage girl if—"

"Actually, I'm quite fascinated by what we've discovered so far, so I don't really think I'm 'wasting my time' as you so politely put it, but perhaps you're of a different opinion…"

Alice was a tad impressed by how fast Gus managed to spin around in surprise and yet somehow turn it into a graceful bow in the direction of his master, who'd seemingly just appeared out of nowhere...like he'd just teleported in. Alice felt a small pang in her chest.

 _Don't worry_ , she told herself. _Soon, you'll have_ _ **him**_ _popping in and out to startle you at inconvenient times, and instead of getting angry, you could just remember today and laugh because he would be there…he_ _ **will**_ _be there…_

"So, Gus, you were briefing dear Alice on our progress so far?"

"Yes, Master. I just told her, but she seems to have forgotten it already."

Keith's mouth curved, not quite in a smile. "Then perhaps you should remind her."

Gus furrowed his brows and cast a quick (but sharp as a knifepoint) look in her direction. Alice thought it was a shame. He would have been very handsome—like Keith, he seemed cast in that same form of refined and elegant masculinity—if it hadn't been for his cutting eyes and mocking smirk and the expression of sheer _disdain_ marring his face.

"Apparently she has other things on her mind that are more important than anything I have to say." Gus' tone was perfect indifference, and Alice could feel the prick of every barbed word.

"I'm sorry," she interjected, apologising yet again, but she couldn't allow them to continue the conversation like she wasn't even there. "I should have paid closer attention to what you were saying. It's just that, well, it's been kind of stressful for me lately and I'm too tired to really concentrate. Could you please say it again?"

Gus drawled, "Yes, you must be very tired after all the long hours and hard work Master Spectra and I have been doing for you."

"That's quite enough, Gus. Why don't you go and get us some more of that 'coffee' and I'll explain things to Alice here."

"As you wish, Sir."

Keith turned to her, and first now did she really get a chance to take in his appearance. Overall he looked like usual—all messy spiked hair and red leather getup—it took a closer look and generally knowing the man to notice the wear and tear around the edges. His hair was less deliberately arranged "sex-hair" messy and more I-just-woke-up-and-haven't-seen-myself-in-the-mirror-for-days messy. He'd abandoned his usual feathered coat and gold ornaments, making his outfit look far less extravagant (though still not very work appropriate, but like hell Keith would ever be seen in something so dull as a _lab coat_ ).

The most telling were his eyes. Alice tried to swallow down the sudden guilt; she could just make out the hints of dark patches beneath his eyes, and his pupils were dilated much more than should be needed in the brightly lit laboratory. She figured he'd likely been on a steady diet of energy drinks and coffee for the last couple of days, maybe for weeks. Not surprising, really, considering all the work he'd got done in such a short amount of time.

 _I just hope he sleeps now and then._

Keith interrupted her thoughts. "Alice, did you hear me?"

Alice bit the inside of her cheek. "No, I'm sorry." She could have smacked herself. _Way to act like a disrespectful airhead, stupid._

"I asked if you'd had the time to read through it all yet?" he said, pointing at the pad in her hand.

"I've read most of it. I was particularly interested in this section," she answered, indicating the paragraphs she'd highlighted, "about dimensional dissociation and parapsychological projection. If I've understood it correctly, you think it's possible to enter other dimensions by only using my mind."

Keith looked pleased, which was all it took to make Alice's facial muscles rebel and break into a ridiculously wide grin, despite her efforts to seem professional.

"Close. Obviously we'll use my tech to aid you in this process; I'm not expecting you to meditate your way into another universe," he chuckled. The sound tickled her insides and simultaneously surprised her; Keith so rarely showed any emotions, let alone laugh out loud. Maybe it was fatigue that was causing his mask to slip. A part of her wished she felt bad about that.

"We are both rather familiar with—ah, let's not be modest about it—we're both experts at travelling between the dimensions. However, we don't have any idea of exactly where Masquerade is, which makes tracking him down like trying to find a needle in a vast multiverse. Our only lead—" he tapped his own temple with a finger, "—is in your head, Alice."

Alice nodded. Wherever Masquerade had gone, however he'd come back, the pathway he'd used was somewhere lost within her mind. The most reasonable way of finding him was to follow his trail, to stalk his footprints deeper and deeper into the repressed memorial grounds and blacked-out dreamscapes that gathered at the bottom of her subconscious, until she finally reached the edge of her world and, hopefully, found a way into his.

"As such," Keith continued, "I have been looking into the mechanics regarding the teletransportation of physical material through the spaces and tried to find a way of applying these to psychological subjects instead. I am certain this is entirely possible. Particularly since the door is already in place within you, all we have to do is—how would you Earthlings put it—turn the key?"

It should sound impossible. Insane. Alice should just get up and leave right now, give up on this obsession, this madness. The fact that everything he'd said so far made perfect sense to her was maybe a pretty good indicator that she'd lost her mind…or it was simply a testament to how weird her idea of normalcy had become.

"And how are you planning of dislocating my mind from my body, I mean, without hurting me? Your papers mention psychic projection with references to other studies, but have you actually tested anything like this yourself?"

He cocked his head. "You doubt me?"

"No, it's…" Alice paused, feeling sheepish. "You see, parapsychology isn't exactly a respected science on Earth. Most consider it a pile of humbug for con-artists to trick money from gullible easily-fooled people. I guess I'd just like to see some proof that it works, myself."

"You require undisputable proof, do you?" He smirked mischievously.

"Yes, I do."

 _"Then is this proof good enough, dear Alice?"_

Alice jumped. The computer pad slipped from between her fingers and banged against the linoleum. His voice! It-it came from inside her _head_. She'd heard him. She'd been looking right at him and _his lips hadn't moved_.

Keith looked disapprovingly at his now-probably-broken equipment littering the floor, not showing any acknowledgement over the fact that he had just punched a hole right through Alice's understanding of reality.

Alice almost whispered, "Was that…really you…just now?"

A glint of humour in his eye was her only response. The idea that he might be mentally laughing at her instantly brought her back to her senses. She tried to wipe the bewilderment off her face, pulled her shoulders back and said as assertively as she could: "You've proven your case. And my other questions? How are you going to make all of this work?"

 _"You certainly know how to cut to the chase, don't you—_ " "—Ah, don't look at me like that. I'll stop now. But that little demonstration wasn't just to prove a point. It's actually quite relevant to your questions. See, what I just did was to project my conscious thoughts _outwards_ and direct them to a specific receiver, namely you. Similar principles apply in the reverse. In your case we're going to direct your consciousness inwards. Are you following so far?"

At her nod, Keith made a motion for her to come with him. They moved over to a circular machine about 3ft high and twice as wide with a flat top covered by a screen, a control panel curved along its rim which glowed with various buttons and liquid crystal displays. Keith turned it on and a column of shimmering light sprung up from the mechanical base to a matching machine attached to the ceiling. Graphic lines were drawn in the light, eventually forming a detailed three-dimensional design with small display boxes with names and definitions popping up next to their corresponding parts.

Alice realised she was looking at a 3D blueprint of the machine Keith was planning on using to help her recover Masquerade. She'd come across hints of it in his papers, but no actual detailed accounts on what it did or how it worked. Keith probably didn't feel like divulging everything about his technology that wasn't strictly necessary for her to know. Alice just wrote it off as the regular scientist paranoia; she knew from experience how fiercely protective they could be over their inventions—at least until they'd had a chance to patent them.

"This is the prototype, RBIT-HO-L, (to be renamed once I think of a better designation). Effectively, what I'm going to do is strap you into this corporation containment chamber here," he said, indicating what appeared to be a pod big enough for a grown human, "and attach this cerebral transportation emitter,"—he pointed to a helmet-like device inside the pod—"the inside of which is full of electrodes that will synchronise with and stimulate the electric impulses in your brain. And this is…"

Though she nodded along, Alice could feel her attention slipping until his words were nothing but a deep and heady drone coming from his mouth. She tried to focus more closely on his moving lips, the way they curved and folded around each sound, in an attempt to catch the meaning, but to no avail.

 _They look really soft—no, stop that!_

She mentally shook herself and focused even harder on his mouth, her glare so intense she was sure he had to see it, at least _feel_ it pressing against him, so hard and hot and wet that…

 _Dammit_. Alice couldn't catch a damn thing and it was all because of her stupid hormones running amok. What he was saying was important and he was doing it for _her_. And here she was, not even listening and with her mind firmly planted in the gutter. Why did her brain just have to turn into a chemical battleground between her rational side and the butterflies in her stomach whenever there was a cute boy around?

She was fortunate that Keith didn't seem to have noticed her inner struggle, or he was simply being polite and ignoring her obvious lack of decorum, or—and this thought was a hard one to swallow—he honestly didn't _care_.

 _No. Of course he cares_ , she assured herself. _Why else would he be doing all of this?_

But why was he doing this? Why was he helping her? Alice tried to imagine how he could benefit from any of this, but she didn't quite see it. She wasn't paying him and surely the prototype itself would cost a great deal to construct. Then again, if it worked he could make a profit on the patent, a small fortune even, but…she had a feeling this wasn't about money at all.

She remembered the look of excitement on his face when he'd agreed to help her. It was a feeling she knew well, the anticipation that sizzled and boiled under your skin, which was made all the more searing after waiting so long for just a breath of challenge to break the chains of monotony that bound and choked on your life, and then the exhilaration when all that pressure was released into an inferno that only grew, consuming everything until all remaining was that single-minded goal to survive, to _win_.

No monetary reward in the world could beat the feeling of victory won by your own will, wit and skill. It was intoxicating, addictive, arousing…and dangerous, her darker half had taught her that.

 _Can it really be that simple?_

Keith was a Brawler, after all, and so _painfully_ much like Masquerade. He had the same inexhaustible appetite for battle, the same unwavering drive, the same fearless determination as he met all opposition with a hungry grin and pure eagerness—all those qualities she so admired—and maybe, unfortunately, _worryingly_ , all the same vices.

"Why." She had to know. She _needed_ to know why. Was he really doing this for the challenge of it? As a favour to her? Or was she just the guinea pig in his latest experiment?

Keith halted in his lecture. "I should think these security measures were a given. What exactly were you—"

"Not that," she interrupted. "Why are you doing all of this? Why are you, as Gus said, 'chasing the ghosts and delusions of some crazy teenage girl?'" She shrugged, as if the words didn't sting.

"And you ask me this _now_?"

"I didn't think about it before now. Back then, all I wanted was for you to agree to help me, no matter what it took. I didn't think of why you'd want to do it, as long as you _did_. I was…selfish, I guess. Self-centred. But I want to know now, because I can't think of a good enough reason for you to go along with this—" she wrung her hands, "—for you to…put up with me."

Keith had grown so still he appeared to have transmuted into a statue, posture frozen, skin marble-white and amazonite eyes unblinking. Suddenly, he looked so _cold_.

"You really don't know? You can't _fathom_ why I'd be interested? You don't even have _an inkling of an idea_?" he said, voice perfectly levelled, and pressed his finger on the off-button in the same way you'd crush a particularly aggravating insect, shutting off the machine. "No, I don't believe that."

Alice swallowed hard but the stubborn cold lump in her throat stayed put. This was as close to angry as she'd ever seen him and suddenly she found it very hard to breathe.

"You must know—there's no way you _can't_ know about what I am, who I used to be. And still you ask me _why_ , as if the answer isn't obvious?" His eyes pierced hers with daggers of ice, freezing her to the spot. He looked at her like he wanted to split open her head and examine her mind's contents, picking at her inner thoughts in order to understand.

She shivered.

"Do you know what I did with it?" His voice was so quiet, quiet and hollow.

Alice nodded slowly. From deep within her, she felt a chill like clawed fingers burrowing into her flesh, scraping away at her internal bits and pieces until only an empty carcass stood before him.

"Nothing." Her answer left her in a whisper, the low whine of a wind passing through a rusty pipe. "You still have it with you."

Keith seemed to hesitate, then from his back he pulled it out, as if from nowhere…as if it had just materialized. Despite the cold she felt, clammy sweat started to burst out from her skin in dewy droplets.

In shape it resembled the face of a hawk, its countenance curving down into the sharp-pointed nose, the single empty black eye glaring at nothing with a hawk's keen vision. It was the face of a predator, carved with a killing edge, as ruthless as it was beautiful.

"I can never bring myself to get rid of it," he admitted, turning it in his hand so he could meet its harsh glare with his own. "There's always another excuse not to."

His grip on it hardened—to break it or to feel it digging into his flesh, Alice wasn't sure—then relaxed again as he ran his thumb over the ridge in an almost loving caress.

"You miss it."

Keith inhaled deeply. "I was different back then, without regrets, without limitations, without doubts, without anyone I cared about because I _didn't_ care at all."

 _But you were free,_ Alice realized. The mask wasn't just an identity; it was like his _wings_ , lifting him high above such burdening ties as _cares_ or doubts. And without it, Keith was a bird grounded, one who could only gaze at the endless sky and far-away horizons as he trudged along for those unreachable places, not as a bird, not as a king, just one man among every other ordinary mortal.

A phantom could go were it liked by its own will with nothing to hold it back; a man had only his own two feet to rely on, growing ever more sore and weary and cut-up and _bleeding_.

Alice was disrupted from her pity when Keith spoke again. "What was meeting him like?"

She licked her upper lip nervously, tasting the salt of her skin, as she tried to think of an appropriate response. She remembered the crippling fear when she found out who he was (the darkness within her she'd hidden from herself); that gut-wrenching shame over what she'd done (running away so she wouldn't have to face her friends); some reconciliation when Klaus had shown her she was more than her sins (worth the forgiveness of someone who owed her nothing); the small hope that was lit in her when Masquerade chose to save her friend (she never had the chance to learn why); and her surprising sadness at his final goodbye (she'd known she wasn't strong enough on her own).

"Like…like seeing yourself in the mirror. Like seeing every mistake you've made that you thought was right, every terrible awful thing you've ever done or said or just _thought_ that you don't regret, and all those guilty pleasures you know you're supposed to hate but you don't because it all made you feel so alive.

"And all the while you know that this… _other you_ is looking right back at you, and he's seeing right through you, all the lies you've told yourself and the failures you've had and the nightmares you're running from, and he's _laughing_ at you. Then you realize you've never fooled him with your lies and you can't run from him because there's no escaping what's inside your own skin.

"I was just seeing a part of myself that I…not _hated_ but kind of wanted gone, but…he was still _me_ , in a way, and if _I_ couldn't accept me then…"

She hadn't even realized she was near tears before the first stray drop trailed down her face and hung quiveringly from the edge of her chin.

"I guess I felt…sorry for him." This realization seemed to surprise her much more than Keith, who was as expressionless as ever, though his anger looked to have thawed somewhat.

"I suppose it's different when you have an altogether separate identity that's ultimately responsible for all the crimes you've committed in your life," he said musingly. "I've no one to blame but myself."

She didn't know how to respond to that. Deny it? It would be a lie and they both knew it.

Hesitantly, Keith raised a hand out towards her and (when she didn't flinch away) wiped the tears from her chin.

Her breath caught.

He moved his hand to touch her face, thumb brushing over the corners of her mouth and then higher, over her cheeks, which she was sure were coloured a rather unattractive red to go with her bloodshot eyes.

"Don't cry," he said a little awkwardly and removed his hand, as if he just realized how the gesture might be considered socially inappropriate. Looking uncomfortable, he added, "You look like my sister when you cry."

Alice managed to cough up a laugh, both embarrassed and disappointed.

"You're not the only one who feels guilty; I blame myself too," she said weakly. "I should have fought harder. I shouldn't have let him take control of me. I shouldn't have let him disappear." The urge to start crying for real, with sniffles and sobs and loud bawling, was becoming almost impossible to hold back.

"You were wondering why I'm helping you." He held up his mask again and both their gazes were immediately drawn to it like to a magnet. It glimpsed crimson in the light.

"Because I too have a ghost inside of me, Alice, or more accurately a phantom. But unlike you, I've never been able to separate myself from it. Yes, there is the guilt and the shame, but that's not the worst; it's the _resentment_. I can feel how much it hates me, blames me for our fall and accuses me of being too weak, too human. And sometimes…more often than I like to admit…I agree.

"I can never really go back to who I was, that Keith is gone. And even if I could, I wouldn't rid myself of the Phantom either; I'd rather live with the guilt than try to exist without that part of me. But I thought that if I am to be forever haunted by my own ghost, at least I could help you with exorcizing yours."

He looked her in the eye. "I thought you understood this when you asked me."

"I'm sorry." She wasn't sure what she was apologizing for.

"Sir?"

Alice startled; Keith dropped the hand holding the mask.

By the entry, Gus was moving towards them with a tray of coffee cups in his hands, making Alice remember why he'd left, then wonder what had taken him so long. She was a little surprised that he had brought a cup for her as well, and upon reaching for it, was even more surprised at the lack any warmth emitting from the liquid. She cast a bemused glance at Gus, wondering if this was another one of his underhanded jabs.

Gus on the other hand seemed to be entirely fixated on his coffee tray, neither looking at her nor his master.

"Sir, if you are done discussing matters with Alice, perhaps you would like to have a rest now before moving any further with the project," he said, his head slightly bowed.

Keith only hesitated a second before he tossed the (presumably stone-cold) drink down his throat.

"No, there's too much work to do to rest now," he said, then gave a small smirk in her direction. "After all, we have a ghost to catch."

* * *

 **A/N** : So what did we learn today, class?

1) Alice is a pervert, and 2) Keith might have a caffeine addiction, and lastly 3) that Gus needs to stop eavesdropping on other people's conversations. That was totally worth spending over 4000 words on, y'all.

Admittedly, this chapter kind of drags plotwise—there's _a lot_ of made-up-science babble—but it was still fun to write. And I felt like I had to exposit "a little" on exactly _how_ Alice was going to find Masquerade, and I wanted to have Gus make a cameo and some more interaction between Alice and Keith and, oh, yeah, shipping, lots of shipping. I also really wanted Alice and Keith's little heart-to-heart to stand as a contrast to Runo and Masquerade's conversation in chapter 2 of _His Just Deserts_. Also, I just love writing Keith as socially inept. It's so much fun.

For those interested, "parapsychology" is the official term for all kinds of supernatural mental abilities, such as telepathy, telekinesis, precognition, astral projection etc. Spectra _did_ use telepathy to communicate with Dan in the show, but it was never explained exactly _how_ , whether he did it using some kind of technology or if it's an innate ability. I guess it just another one of those weird-ass abilities that the masked villains in the show seem to have, like Masquerade's walking on air or entering people's dreams.

 **Next time** : Alice goes into the RBIT-HO-L. Get it?


End file.
